Crescere
by neurofeces
Summary: a prequel "creation of alternate bodies" fic designed to work with the Yugiohrp3 on livejournal. See inside for general summary, please. It's actually not nearly so dull as it sounds, there's simply no space here to explain further.


Actually, this is meant to go along with the wonderful, near-forgotten early world of the Yugiohrp3 on Livejournal where I play as Marik and as Yami Bakura. (Not as Malik or Ryou. Not at this point and time, at least.) Currently we might still have some openings if you want to read three years worth of weird storyline. snicker But we love what we do.

This is me going crazy without the comm's consent, just so you know. (I'm the only original member left, so I'm trying to write stuff down for posterity as well as sanity for those coming in.)

It can probably still be read on its own (I'm usually very careful about that), but it's more of a prequel for events that happened in that particular RP, and it has only two chapters because of that. The next chapter is already done, and will go up whether I get reviews or not, because I'm a madwoman. The only reason I'm not posting both today is because I want to revise the second part tonight when I get home.

That said, if you are not of the RP, i wish you the utmost enjoyance of a rather odd fic taking a look at the commonly accepted, glossed over fandom habit of having "new bodies" pop out of thin air for people among other things. It's rated T for some of the conversations, and for Malik's guttermouth, but there don't seem ot be any pairings. (Though the comm tilted to bronzeshipping after this, so you know.)

My dear friends who actually play as Malik and Ryou, please forgive me for using your characters, but I had to be in on that action. Sorry. I hope you don't feel the need to stone me when this is over. This is NOT a desperate attempt to take your jobs from you.

**Crescere**

**by neurofeces**

-o-O-o- I -o-O-o-

_"Like the earth of a hundred years ago, our mind still has its darkest Africas, _

_its unmapped Borneos and Amazonean Basins._

_In relation to the fauna of these regions we are not yet zoologists,_

_we are mere naturalists and collectors of specimens."_

_--_from _Heaven and Hell_, by Aldous Huxley

-o-O-o-

Malik shivered as he descended into the museum basement. He knew of course, why it had to be so cold. Living tissue didn't last that long. Ryou had explained it to him with every evidence of patience and contentedness--of course Malik hadn't seen why he'd spend so much patience and feel such contentedness with a project like that. Not that he could really say he minded. It was benefiting him after all... Somewhat.

...still didn't make the other not-completely-bonkers, anyway...

Malik felt dizzy, but then again, he'd already given several quarts of his blood for this particularly messy little project, and that was to be expected, and he was reasonably sure a vegetarian diet wouldn't compensate for lack of blood with any real amount of punctuality. He took the stairs slowly, and he shivered. He tried not to wince when he spotted Ryou's bent white head over the mess of his work. At least he'd been down enough to no longer feel _nausea_ when he saw it. Ryou looked up and smiled like an angel, his hands red and sticky. "Oh, Hullo." He murmured softly. "It's going well. Your sister was just in here. She makes lovely biscuits. Perhaps not really the kind I had in mind when I asked her for tea and biscuits, but really very lovely..." Malik snickered despite himself. Oh _Isis_. "KFC. Americans. Tourist traps and that sort of thing." He mutered under his breath, adding more loudly afterwards,"You said it's going well? He still looks like...well..."

Ryou smiled and glanced down. "Oh this?" Malik nodded faintly, a sardonic smile to his lips, hands on his hips. "I'm amazed the _police _can't see this. Ryou-kun, it's all but _glowing_ with the most blatant sort of magic. Exactly what are you doing?" Ryou shrugged shyly. "Oh...this and that...it's rather...complicated I'm afraid. Your texts here are quite useful though. I'm sure the Phar-Atem would have appreciated it if I'd known some of these things. I've been able to slow the decomposition using some of these, which makes it much easier." He delicately reached for a teacup, and sipped. "Oh, I'm afraid the tea's gone rather moderate for warmth, but you're welcome to it." Ryou hesitated as Malik uneasily crossed, giving the circle and mess of symbols a wide berth. "It's working?" He asked flatly. Ryou smiled again. "It's working. Though I do rather wish I'd been better with my trigonometry at times. No harm done, though. I've been constructing the shoulders today, and the neck. Rather complicated anatomy, the neck. Proper circulation is key for the head, after all." He sipped again, and put the teacup aside. Red finger-marks remained in places, then quickly turned brown.

Already portions of the body had been stitched off and sealed with some sort of hide Malik was unsure of the origin of. He imagined he didn't want to know. It certainly didn't look like fabric, and didn't look like _plastic_. The vegetarian in him was revolted, and that somewhat amazed him. He was more worried about the _animals _in this than the _human _parts. In a way, it was almost sick. But he'd done his share of sick things, now hadn't he?

He glanced at the intricate markings Ryou had drawn onto his hands beneath the coating of blood--Malik's own blood--and felt again slightly queasy. Something of the marks suggested a...wrongness of shape, as though not proper for three dimensional space. Malik rubbed at his eyes and pulled his jacket closer about himself, shivering again. Ryou looked at him worriedly. "You look as though you're feeling a bit...off, still." Malik shrugged in response, staring at the half-formed body in it's cradle of magical symbols. "Perhaps some meat? Certainly something with iron in it..." Malik grimaced. "I'm a _vegetarian_." Ryou's already fair skin paled. "You should take an iron supplement! A-A multi-vitamin of sorts? If you've become _anemic _in addition to the strain of- I don't know _how_ I could apologize for-!" Malik scowled despite himself. "I'll be _fine_. How long do you think before he's ready?"

Ryou bit a soft lip and looked down again to study his work. "Not long...Yami seems to have...found a liver, and just today, at that." He looked, despite himself to the cell phone left open near one of his sock-clad feet. Malik frowned, noting where he looked. Even Ryou didn't look terribly happy about the whole thing. "I didn't know we had reception down here..." He muttered. Ryou gave him an embarassed smile. "I honestly don't know how I have reception down here either. Truth be told...I can only wonder." Malik raised his eyebrows. "Your Yami, you think?" Ryou shook his head faintly. "I don't know how he could have possibly..." He trailed off and sighed, with a faint, embaraassed smile. "He's been rather...helpful as of late. I suppose he still thinks your Yami might run after Atem once his body is formed. I honestly can't think of another reason why he would be so..."He trailed off, smiling nervously and gesturing.

Malik hunched down to pour himself a cup of tepid tea. He thought about grabbing a biscuit, but reminded hismelf it was probably cooked in animal fats. Malik shook his head. "I doubt that. He's been very quiet. He doesn't move much, doesn't do much since he knows how dangerous it is for me to have him here. Don't tell your Yami, though." He tapped a finger to the side of his head, and shrugged. Ryou shifted, stitching quietly with black silk thread as he spoke. "I won't. ...Did you get the package?" Malik blinked. "The Rod? Yeah, but apparently it can't accomodate a spirit the way the Millennium Puzzle or the Ring can. He needs a body if he's going to stay..." Malik sighed, slumping next to Ryou. "I don't understand it. I had no problems with this _before_. It didn't damage me to have another spirit in my body before, so why now?" Ryou wiped his fingers and laid his needle aside. His sigh sent a white cloud into the air. "Well...spirits are a hobby of mine, you know. I've never seen one exactly like his...but...if I had to guess... He's probably...growing." Malik put down his teacup, and stared at Ryou. "Is that possible? He's getting _bigger_?" He looked away, eyes bulging at the thought. "Oh _gods..._" He murmured aloud. Ryou waved his hands, laughing softly. "What? Oh! No, no. Hold on a bit--there's no need to fuss. He's...a portion of you, and you seem...well...quite capable of anger at the moment. Perhaps he too is...well...healing back, as it were? Except he's become a seperate entity, and...it rather makes things...complicated..." His speech became halting, then trailed off altogether into embarassed silence.

Malik rubbed at his temple and pulled his jacket closer again. "...I guess that makes sense. If he can make barters with the shadow realm using his soul, then...he must _have _a soul-" Ryou smiled. "And it would explain the personality difference. That is, you said he seemed...different? I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive when he was around. I wasn't...feeling well during the battle city tournament." Malik grimaced. "I remember." He muttered, one hand curling into a fist. He still had a score to settle with the spirit of the ring. "How's your arm?" Ryou shrugged. "Hm? Oh. Better. Thank you."

Silence stretched awkwardly between them.

It wasn't that he didn't like Ryou. Actually, he was rather disappointed he hadn't taken time to get to know the boy earlier than he had. He was kind, polite, _british_, and somehow amidst all his otherwise alarmingly gentle and unalarming traits, had an unshakable fascination with the occult. In fact, he'd come to Malik's attention in the last respect when he'd actually made a body for Atem, at Yugi's request, and it hadn't failed in six months. He hadn't seemed the type at first, but...Malik was dimly surprised with himself that he hadn't thought it obvious considering the deck his darker half played with. Most of that had probably been chosen by Ryou at one time or another, after all. Atem's spontaneous new body was the point at which he'd really put it together though...of course... That was rather a tantamount hint that someone had a fascination with the occult--not entirely necromacy per se since it wasn't really raising an entire dead person back and expecting them to carry on as before--Ryou actually _made_ the bodies. From...unneeded organs and dead parts held together with magic and who knew what else.

Ah yes, Atem. From there, things had gone strange in more ways than one. Atem wasn't even supposed to _be_ thre after all.

With Atem's return, something wasn't right, to say the least. _Nothing_ in the tombkeeper's records spoke of the Pharaoh _returning _after all the ceremony of his title had passed on to Yugi, and he supposedly had gone off to his reward in the afterlife. He _shouldn't_ have returned. In fact, he shouldn't have been _able_ to return--the afterlife being set out as it was.

But he did...and soon after, the Millennium Ring had found its way back to a reluctant Ryou Bakura's throat, bringing with it, it's resident spirit.

The items had returned, as had the Pharaoh...something certainly wasn't _right_. The prophecies, and the game _should_ have been finished...

Malik sighed and felt the chill gold of the Millenium Rod tucked into his belt. The item wasn't really his. _He_ hadn't really chosen it. His dark half--if you wanted to call him a half, even--had been the one to do it. In some guilty part of himself...he had to wonder if this was all his fault. All this oddity had happened _after_ he'd risked life and soul to bring back Mariku, for something he couldn't explain away into a given reason. For _some_ reason, he'd had to rescue his darker half, and since then things had started to happen. Coincidence? Maybe...but perhaps it _wasn't _coincidence--perhaps he'd torn something loose in the shadow realm? Who knew? He'd only done it to quiet the screaming he heard when he slept, after all. (At least that was the only excuse he'd been able to come up with--though it rather lacked a certain finesse and well...credibility as a reason to apparently off-balance the rest of the known past and present and future.) It hadn't been so simple even as that. He hadn't just been able to go by and shout "Shut the Hell up." He hadn't simply been able to turn the thing free. It--Mariku--had stayed, and clung to him like a frightened child, so...he'd let it stay in his body with a hint of a resigned groan, and thought that would be the end of it.

Then the seizures had started any time the thing shifted around too much. And Atem had returned with the Millennium Puzzle to a surprised Yugi's doorstep, and the Millennium Ring had made its way back to an unhappy Ryou Bakura...

In some deep pit part of himself, Malik could only wonder and fear if he'd done it all. Centuries, no, _millennia_ of ritual, and he might have broken it all because of a little _insommnia_ and a little pent up rage back when he was ten years old? Hardly a pleasant thought. Mariku was dormant and content, wrapped around his mind and thoughts like a great sleeping cat--which was disturbing enough in it's own right, but better than having him awake. And the Pharaoh was back on earth, now functioning within a new body thanks to the unusual hobbies, and black silk thread of an otherwise disturbingly harmless boy. Atem would live as a human, and die as a human once more--which there had been _nothing_ ever written about... And the spirit of the ring, _Touzoku-ou_, as he'd mockingly re-introduced himself with a bow to Malik, had returned as well, and of course, demanded a body of his own, still bent as ever on chasing down the Pharaoh, and--according to his own words--seeing his soul devoured by Ammit. (Something in Malik suspected that for all Yami Bakura's apparent fascination with the modern world, he was still deeply suspicious, and a devout worshipper of several of the Egyptian pantheon. The spirit would naturally never admit it, but still...Malik suspected. All the business about the sun being swallowed up by darkness? All too much the Apophis-worshipper from the sounds of things...hardly original at any rate...)

Dear, gentle Ryou had complied for whatever reason, forming a body for the darker spirit to so gleefully wreak his lousily thought-out plots upon the world...and... though all this, Mariku slept. Mariku lay, dormant around Malik's brain, content. When he woke and even tried to speak to his host or interact with teh world outside, his host went into convulsions and seizures. Malik rubbed at his arm unconsciously. He'd nearly sent the thing through the window when Mariku had first entered his body once more.

There just simply wasn't enough room in a single body to hold two spirits. Two _full size_ spirits at least. If what Ryou postulatated was correct, then he could only assume his self-created embodiment of hatred was--perish the thought--_growing up_. (Oh _gods_...) And what was more, he couldn't bring himself to send the thing back to the shadow realm, not after everything that had happened now. Something was wrong. And Malik couldn't help but feel the shadow realm couldn't be safe if it would belch back out something like the Spirit of the Ring, with his apparent "soul-foot in every doorstep from here to the scales of the afterlife" without so much as a hesitation to allow for insurance prices to compensate. (Sarcastic though that was on his part, the self proclaimed "Thief King" certainly _did_ have quite the kleptomaniac streak...)

After another night of lousy seizures jsut because Mariku had shifted around and done a double-take at something through his eyes, Malik had decided he'd had enough, and he'd called on Ryou to make a body for Mariku, and Ryou had been entirely pleasant about it, acquiescing with a smile.

So...here they were.

He honestly didn't know how Ryou dealt with it. Embalmed, preserved bodies, Malik had no problem with, but..._live _flesh, live stinking meat, and organs, blood, bile, snot, and all the rest? He couldn't even handle the meat of animals anymore! He was dimly appalled as he watched the body build up from bones onward. (Each bone written in sigils he didn't know, symbols and references that tied soul to flesh... How _would _Ryou make the marrow live again? Who _knew_?)

And to think he'd be working with...with a _tomb robber_! The _worst_ sort of enemy for a tombkeeper to consort with, at that, to build this...this _abomination _of flesh, to most regards? He _felt _it now that he wasn't busy running off and being impetuous about his family line. He couldn't _stand_ him! A desecrator of tombs, and a destroyer and perverter of rituals... Yami Bakura provided organs. Good, choice, healthy, male organs of dubious origin. Who knew where he got them from, he simply got them, and Ryou and Malik were both rather hesitant to ask where or how. Neither was comfortable with the idea of outright murder, after all. A kidney here, a crucial diaphragm muscle there--carefully sewn in to provide the proper pressurization of the lungs to allow the body to actually breathe. (--An early problem with Atem's body. He'd been on oxygen masks for a week before Ryou had been able to fix it, sneaking into the hospital room with--if it was to be beleived--pages of notes stuffed up his sweater, and a thermos half-full of blood disguised as a coffee, patching up Atem with the spell he'd lost two nights of sleep looking for, like some demented magical surgeon. They'd all apaprently been frightened Atem would be investigated and found filled with organs sewn together in black silk thread, but who would beleive that someone would actually _make_ a body anyway? Most doctors probably would have trouble with it, even were the evidence in front of them.)

Who _knew_ how many young men's lives might have been given for some paltry, created soul to live as a human being... Malik was dimly disgusted with himself for not being more appalled. Dimly horrified that he could sleep nights--_now_ he could. Now that he no longer had Mariku screaming agony in his ear all night from the shadow realm, he could sleep. Who could _willingly_ banish a portion of their own soul and feel no effects, though? They were _too_ connected. Ryou hadn't _created_ his "darker half" any more than Yugi had created the Pharaoh. They'd both lived, and clung to life for centuries until given a "host." Mariku on the other hand...

Who _knew _what Mariku was at this rate? He couldn't put himself in an item, but he _couldn't _be banished painlessly to the shadow realm to rot with the other monsters. Whatever tattered soul he had, he _had _it, and Malik couldn't accept willingly _killing_ something like him. Not anymore, at least.

So...this was the only action he could take. He'd joined forces with the Necromancer-of-sorts and the demented anachronistic Bodysnatcher to build a vessel for something he didn't even know whether he hated anymore. He just wanted to be left alone, and live above the ground, and...settle down, not have to worry about lineage, or tearing the flesh of his son's back at the age of ten in the "scriptures" that were his family's heritage, someday. Everything was supposed to be _done_!

_Supposed_ to be.

Ryou noticed he was looking at the body, and smiled. (It was more like _glaring_, truth be told.) "Have you ever read the midrash?" He asked softly. Malik frowned, the words registering, and bringing him back. "Isn't that...jewish?" He asked. "I've heard of it. Never read it though..." Ryou's smile faded, looking suddnely embarassed. "Oh...never mind then...I ws thinking of Adam's second wife. Poor thing." Malik raised his eyebrows. "Second wife? Lilith? I've heard of her. Liked demons, didn't she?" Ryou shook his head. "Oh no, Lilith was the first wife, supposedly, and Eve was the third. The second one didn't have a name. God created her from nothingness...and...Adam saw her "_full of excretions and blood"_ and he didn't love her." Ryou sighed. "Poor thing." He repeated. Malik shifted. "What happened to her?" Ryou smiled sadly. "God destroyed her...and made Eve of Adam's rib." Malik flinched. "...Isn't that...rather harsh?" Ryou only shrugged. "She had no purpose, supposedly, and...well...Jews don't like the idea of excretions." He gave a faint smile. "Uncleanliness and all...but...yes...I think it's rather harsh too." He looked down for a moment, then gave a shy smile. "But...well...third time's the charm?" His voice was barely above a whisper. Malik made himself smile for the other boy's sake. "Maybe..." He muttered. Ryou seemed cheered by his smile though, he blushed, apparently happy at making a joke that had cheered someone else up, and ducked back down to work on Mariku's body with renewed enthusiasm.

Amazing. The boy was a nut. A quiet, soft-spoken, utterly likeable _nut_. To not throw Ryou a bone in a conversation was like kicking a puppy.

Malik stared at the half-formed body for a while. "He looks taller than me." He commented abruptly. Ryou looked embarassed. "A little. I beleive it's the difference in torso. I-I'd change it for you, but...I think it's rather late." Malik shook his head. "It's fine. It's just...different. This is with you trying to use my body as a reference?" Ryou nodded. "Atem's body was more irregular. Don't tell him, please...but...I hope he's alright. I got a lot better at this when I had to make Yami's body." Malik nodded. "How's the old tombrobber?" He made sure to keep his voice pleasant. Ryou's body went rather rigid. "He's fine." He replied in a forcibly cheerful tone. Malik grinned into his teacup, glad Ryou couldn't see him. "You'd be cute together." He added, to see if that was it. Ryou's neck went noticeably red. "I don't like boys." Ryou murmured almost inaudibly, staring fixedly down at the body he was working on.

Malik rubbed his arms absently to combat the chill of the basement, and leaned back on a crate. This probably wasn't the best time to tell Ryou his preferences. He would be sure to misinterpret it as an interest in _him_. Ha. Why did straight men hearing _he _was gay, always assume that it meant he was interested in _them_? Ryou was too girlish for his tastes. And...too nice. Definitely too girlish. He experienced the urge to comment that it'd pratically be heterosexual if the tombrobber and Ryou got together, but he wisely swallowed the words with a gulp of too-strong, lukewarm tea.

No...It would be stupid to hurt Ryou's feelings. He needed his help for one, and after all, Ryou was already self-conscious about his looks as it was, and Malik could relate there. The difference was, Ryou was modest and quit and preferred to be left to himself, whereas Malik wouldn't have objected in the slightest to men giving him a second glance. He _liked_ attention. He liked to feel worth something. And, he now had the special privelege, thanks to centuries of ritual fulfilled (or _supposedly _fulfilled), to like men, and not have to worry about passing on the disgusting mark on his back to some poor boy in the future. As the last heir of the tombkeepers, he could be _outrageously _gay and not worry about it at all--aside from what his family would think, that was.

Unfortunately, he lived in Egypt.

He was unspeakably envious of Ryou (though silently so), no matter _what_ his preference, for living in Britain. People were allowed to be more open in Britain. _It_ wasn't predominantly _muslim_, and therefore, homophobic, or even _hateful_ to people like him. Britain...center of the sexual revolution..._dammit_... Malik silently chafed under the unfairness of it all, but...his family lived _here_. Isis and Rishid both cared for him so much--he couldn't very well explain to them that he wanted to move so he could find a nice man--one that wouldn't treat him like garbage after the hours in the hotel were up. (He couldn't explain _that_ to them either, though. He'd been a bit stupid once he'd tasted freedom, after all, and Isis probably wouldn't like to hear it.) He couldn't leave either of them, anyway. They were his family. They _both _would have done anything to protect him, and in fact, they had proved it and then some.

Malik sighed. "Yeah...Sorry, I guess. But...you know, love and hate really aren't so far apart sometimes." Ryou only gave him a curious look, and Malik realized too late that this might have strange implications, coming from a young man who was having a body made for the embodiment of his hateful spirit. Malik felt his face heat, and tried to hide it by hurriedly taking a gulp of tea. He made a face, regretting it afterwards. Ryou luckily didn't ask any questions, only smiled quietly, shyly. "I appreciate the care, but...Yami really..." Ryou hesitated, pausing with his needle poised. He finally simply shook his head. "Er...He's not the type to do anything without cost, if you understand. He's rather...unpleasant, truth be told." Ryou winced, as though expecting something to happen to him for even saying that much while busily making his tiny stitches binding colon to internal sphincter. "I made him a body more to get away from him than anything else." He looked down as though ashamed. "I only wish I hadn't been quite so selfish about it... Then I wouldn't be so worried about what he's doing that I don't know about." Malik nodded. "I see...well...If you can talk to your Yami, see if he can fit _this_-" He indicated the prone body with a toe, "-with something a little larger. Who knows? Maybe Mariku will get lucky..." Ryou blinked at first, then his face suddenly flooded with crimson embrassment.

"I'll...see what I can do." He whispered shakily. "That's...really the most embarassing part for me, sewing in his..." Ryou trailed off, gesturing and giving a flustered laugh. "It's not the ureters--those I can handle, it's just...the circulation is complicated, and...well...it's..." He nervously tugged at his collar. "Someone else's..." he trailed off again with a point downwards, a blush, and another nervous laugh. Malik smiled and shrugged. "You get the pictures I sent you?" Ryou's face flooded with even brighter red. "Erm...Yes..." He began to cough. Malik gave him a look. "I don't mind, you know." He said, curiously. Ryou made a few flustered gestures. "Oh no...you see... Um. You see-Oh!" The cell phone buzzed like an insect near his foot, saving him from having to explain how he felt about receiving naked specifics on another's body, even if it _was_ only in the way one would get a pattern for sewing a piece of clothing. Ryou gingerly shifted and tapped the proper button with his big toe, leaning awkwardly closer, apparently not daring to pick up the phone with his bloodied fingers. "Er. Hullo?"

Yami Bakura's impatient voice could be heard echoing in the cold of the room through slightly crackly speaker, as frosty as the temperature. "It would seem we have a delay due to typical modern incompetance in training properly a flock of camels. Blasted animals. They call this the _modern _age, and yet..." Bakura's muttering became indistinct. Malik was dimly grateful. The man could tirade for centuries if given a chance. Malik wondered dimly if that was what he'd spent his spare time doing while in the ring--composing tirades against the "entire bloody world"... It didn't seem entirely unlikely.

Ryou frowned at the phone, speaking as loudly as he could--which wasn't very loud as he seemed almost to flinch at the very echoes in the room. "Yami-"

"I've told you not to call me by the damned pharaoh's assumed name! Bloody Hell, host! How many times will you make me repeat it? _Don't_ call me bloody '_Yami_'!" Ryou gave a faint sigh, rubbing thoughtfully at the inner body cavity as though there were a spot and he were a housewife with a disinfectant rag. "Well what else can I call you? 'Bakura' is _my_ name, you know." The spirit of the ring made an impatient and irritated noise on the phone. "I happen to have a very important parcel for your demented necropheliac hobby. It would be wise not to _test_ my patience, host." Ryou sighed. "Yes. Er...About that...Malik wants..." He trailed off and blushed, looking to Malik. Malik gave him an encouraging gesture. Ryou's hands shook slightly. "He wants _what_? Whatever it is _Malik_ wants, he can stick it up his-"

"He wants you to look for...erm..." Ryou coughed. "He would like for the body to be...well endowed."

His Yami's end of the phone was silent for a long moment. "Stick a bar of gold up it's anus, then, and a coin beneath the tongue." Bakura replied irritably. "I really don't think I want to know what you're getting at, you miserable nance-"

"No, no. He..." Ryou sighed, and blushed again, clearly miserable. "It's what...he wants. Can't you...?" Bakura made an expressively irritable noise on the other end. "It's not as though someone else wouldn't _miss_ such a thing, host. This is difficult enough without getting orders for a 'custom job'!" Malik made a series of gestures at Ryou to tell him he'd take it from here. Ryou handed him the phone wordlessly. Malik wiped at the flecks of blood absently and spoke at the thing. "Come _on_, Bakura. He might get lucky, right?"

"And _I_ am the long lost bastard sister of the pharaoh. Bollocks to his sex life and yours if you have any narcissistic notions in addition to your sick humor." Malik privately thought this was rather far coming from someone who could laugh maniacally about losing his soul, but didn't say anything. Naturally, Bakura continued rambling unabated. "I'm telling you, it either _cannot _be done or it would be _difficult_. If it is _difficult_, I don't intend to do it just to satisfy your voyeuristic urges, and my host's sick necrophelia habit out of the goodness of my _heart_. He gets what he gets, and you're ripping all the skin off the damn thing anyway for homogenaity's sake so it's not as though it's going to _be_ that size anyway." Malik grimaced, instinctively crossing his legs at the mention of flaying the organ in question. "No _custom jobs_, Malik." The irritated man on the other line added. Malik frowned, then had a thought. He smiled and cleared his throat. "You know... This _is_ the chosen weilder of the Millennium Rod..." He began. Yami Bakura gave a snort on the other end. Doubtless, he got the joke, but it wasn't going to change his mind. "The answer, is _no_, Malik. He gets what he gets, and you will be lucky to have my services at all for attempting this sort of stunt in the first place. I could just as easily land him a _cunt_-" Ryou interrupted. "Quite out of the question, Ya-_You_." He massaged the bridge of his nose, leaving bloody streaks. "I no longer have the option of allowing for ovaries in this body." The spirit of the ring snapped back. "I _don't_ intend to allow him-!" Ryou sighed, cutting him off. "I'd have to start over. And...besides...I don't think At-_the pharaoh_ would be intimidated by a female Mariku." Yami Bakura snorted on the other end, and Malik had to fight down his own laughter.

A _female_ Mariku would be more terrifying than the shadow realm itself in his opinion. More terrible than the shadow realm _and_ all the fiends in it past and present.

Yami Bakura made an irritated noise, his humor as short-lived as ever. "Listen to me, _Malik_. I don't intend to allow you to so easily manipulate me again, and I beleive you should take that into account the next time you feel such an urge to make lewd requests of me. You are _most_ fortunate I want to kill your precious asshole _pharaoh_ more than you could possibly imagine. I'd even deal with the likes of _you_ to do it." There was a beep, then abrupt silence.

The bastard had hung up on him.

Malik glared at the phone, then slid it over the stone floor back to bump against Ryou's foot. "...He needs to get laid." Malik muttered. Ryou didn't answer, steadily looking away. Malik paused. "Not by you." He mended. Ryou gave him a faint smile. "Thank you. Bloody wanker..." He murmured, rubbing his sinuses again. He flushed slightly, glancing at Malik quickly and whispered. "I'm sorry. Not you." Malik nodded absently. He wasn't entirely sure what Ryou meant by that, but it was probably a british cuss, he guessed. "His obsession with the Phar-Atem rather worries me." Ryou muttered. "Makes me wonder, even..." He added under his breath.

He sounded as though he wanted to ask why Malik was doing all this, despite it all--making a body just for his other self, that was. Atem and Yugi, after all were best friends, and close as brothers. Ryou and the spirit of the ring apparently had split into seperate bodies out of mutual agitation with the other. What could possibly compel Malik to bring a spirit he'd once hated _out _of the shadow realm, only to endow him with a body of his own? Malik could see the question lingering on Ryou's face, but Ryou was polite, He didn't ask. He only kept at his work, and Malik was glad, because he still didn't have an answer for the other or anyone else.

The tomb-keeper smiled to himself. No wonder he liked Ryou so much. He was one of the only people he knew who knew how to keep his mouth _shut_.

"You're really very good with anatomy, aren't you?" Ryou looked up, then smiled hesitantly. "I...well...I suppose I am." He looked down. "Really it's more...dead things." He looked back with a smile like a frightened child's. "I like dead things." He admitted. "More than live things sometimes..." Malik studied him for a moment, scratching his head. "...Why, exactly? I mean...I can _see _you like dead things, and I can see you know occultic things, but...there has to be something that made you comfortable with it all, right?"

Ryou paused for a long moment. "...I suppose it's...my sister." He said finally. Malik waited. White fingers sewed calmly onward. "...and?" Malik prompted hesitantly. Ryou looked back, blinking once. "Oh. Sorry. She's dead, you see."

Malik went rigid, then put down the teacup. "Oh. Oh I'm...I'm sorry." The words sounded hollow and dead to him. What he'd do if _Isis _were dead... Ryou smiled. "Really, it's not your fault. You couldn't know." That also sounded like it came automatically from _his_ mouth, Malik noted. The other looked down and painted the organs already in place lovingly with a coat of blood to keep them alive, despite the spells and such he'd put around to halt the rot process, breaking the congealing surface, and smiling serenely down at it all. "DId you...try bringing her back and making a body for her too?" Malik asked cautiously, feeling suddnely strangely sorry for Ryou. Ryou's hand stopped moving. He lifted his face again, expression oddly blank. "...You can't bring back dead spirits like that. Not to the point where they can use a body, or remember everything, or... really _function_. Even if they're still wandering the earth." He sighed. "Item spirits...they're different. They're still human, in a way. Yami isn't...dead. He's just...extended for thousands of years. The same for the Pharaoh-I mean Atem. And Mariku is...a human spirit as well. They are...alive. Even if they live in a mess of gold, it's...body-like. I can't think of what they must have done in creating the items...I wish I knew."

Malik looked down at the mess of a body being put together, piece by piece, every bit matching in, skin painstakingly flayed away, muscles rebuilt and threaded with veins and arteries like jewels, all slick with a coating of his blood, and he shivered again, white steam ghosting from his lips. He noticed Ryou hadn't answered the question about his sister. He looked at the boy. Ryou noticed, looked up, blinked a moment, then smiled in a picture of innocence. Malik shivered again, despite himself.

"I'm going to get some air." He murmured, rising to his feet. Ryou looked at him as though worried he might have offended him, then shrank back down, hunching over his vast work, white rising from his lips. He raised the teacup with it's now-chilled beverage and sipped again, apparently untasting, eyes fixed down to the frame of bone and blood and magic and sealing hide. Malik looked away again. For a moment, it was frightening to think of Ryou's breath as spirits dancing around him and his weird white hair, and rolled-back sweater sleeves.

Ryou was _smart_. Malik was surprised by the thought as he made his way up the stairs, rubbing at his hands to work feeling back into them. Quiet, yes, but in his own way, frighteningly smart. Malik knew he could never understand all the rituals, all the overlaps of eccentric knowledge that Ryou worked through to make a body--for no cost, either. He had nothing to gain at all. A smart, and exceedingly _kind _boy with a rather...strange hobby... Malik dimly realized he'd had no idea back when he'd been using him as a puppet with his parasitic spirit's aid and blessing. How many others could there have been like Ryou, with so much potential...? (And such a potential to still be somewhat unease-inducing?)

How many others more were gone and put into the making of what would one day be Mariku...?

He frowned to himself as he found himself wandering through the closed museum, his footsteps echoing as they strode over the tiles, and mingled with the muffled noise of the street at night coming from the entrance itself:_ Bodysnatchers... Necromancers... Excretions and blood... He might get lucky..._ He was roused out of his thoughts by a clatter and a muffled english curse from the entrance. Malik blinked, then ran to the entrance, peering through the glass of the door and noting a very annoyed looking Yami Bakura standing outside. He sighed and gestured on the opposite side of the glass for the other to go around to the delivery entrance. The man's dark eyes narrowed, and he adjusted his parcel with annoyance, then he took off at a run for the other entrance. Malik made a note not to get in his way, and walked tiredly to the staff bathroom to wash his hands in the hopes that astringent antibacterial pink soap would wash the smell of chilled gore off his skin.

He would go home now, he decided. Go home, and keep Rishid in his presence so he could discuss the move with Mariku without going into a seizure or such, that's what he'd do. He wouldn't have to deal with Bakura, or think about poor Ryou and his almost frightening angel smile while covered in blood. Dead sisters, live spirits, bodies of jewelry...

He rubbed at his temples and sighed. It would be worth it all. In the end, somehow, it would be worth it all just to give that deranged spirit a body. It had to be what he'd wanted, that much was certain from his actions before. Despite himself, on the brief lull in the ride home, he found himself nodding off.

He felt the vague presence pressing into his mind shift.

His lips curled in smile. _That's not a good idea, Mariku. Not yet. Wait until I'm with Rishid. Just hold on._ The presence retracted slightly, giving way to a strange flash of images, disconnected scraps of dream--

_Yami Bakura's voice was sardonically snapping "As well endowed as can _be_-" cut off by Ryou's gasp "Oh! They're _perfect_!" Malik raised his terrified eyes and a trio of gleaming golden golems looked back at him. He looked down, despite himself and saw his fingers and arms and body were incomplete, disassembled, bone and sinew, and magic. He collapsed to the ground, unable to support himself, while Ryou smiled angelically and raised a paintbrush dipped in molten gold, murmuring "Not long, not long at all...", a droplet searing his helpless fingers-_

Malik gasped and woke with a start. A few people stared at him as he groaned and put a hand to his head, groggily trying to figure out where he was. His stop was three away from where he woke. He was only releived he hadn't misse dit. He hadn't thought himself that tired, but apparently he'd been wrong. He waved a hand, and shouted in arabic for a taxi to take him the rest of the way, as he'd had to do lately. The first two passed him by and he cursed them quietly under his breath, but the third finally stopped for him, and the driver treated his choice of declared destination with every shred of apathy. Malik struggled to keep his eyes open the rest of the way home, and somehow managed it. He stumbled into the house, and Rishid looked up, smiling in greeting, frying falafels. Malik couldn't even smile back--he only collapsed gratefully into the couch with a sigh.

Rishid looked at him concernedly, but said as little as ever. "Where's Isis?" Malik mumbled. Rishid paused, remembering. "Out on business." Malik sighed. "Come here when you're done. I need to talk to him." Rishid was compliant and quiet as ever. He didn't lecture, didn't give Malik more than his same tired, worried look which spoke volumes along the lines of _you know what he could do to you, don't you? You know what he did to you before...Please don't let me see you hurt again. I really wish you wouldn't ask me to do this..._ and Malik's internal voice was left muttering back along the lines of _I know. I won't. It's different now. It's only for a little while. I know._

Soul rooms were a luxury, meant for the likes of Yugi, and the Pharaoh's former ever-stretching labyrinth in the Puzzle. Malik had no such luxury, and no such comforting image. It was unpleasant to push into himself to speak with Mariku. It had a vague, but persistant feeling of suffocating wet warmth, and was entirely dark. It was like being buried in one of his own veins or something, with only Mariku's voice muttering in his ear, in the same drowning dark warmth. No wonder Mariku had wanted to be out before. Malik couldn't blame him. He could vaguely feel Mariku sense him, and feel his excitement, his glee. Malik opened his eyes and took a breath. Rishid gave him another weary look of worry. Malik tried to ignore it. "You there?" He murmured aloud. He felt his hair rise and freeze as though static were playing on it, felt a warmth at his forehead, and felt his lips twist into a grin. "Of course." The warped voice echoed from his throat. Malik smiled despite himself.

Rishid lowered his head, raising a hand-mirror to give Malik something to look at and speak to. His hair flattened back agian, and he looked intently at the mirror. He tried to think of what to say, frowning at himself. "You're cramped in there, aren't you?" His own shoulders rolled in a shrug, and he took that as the response. "Well you won't be soon." Silence reigned for an instant, then his hair prickled again, and a blazing millennium eye flared to life on his forehead. His eyes were wide. "I had your _word _you wouldn't put me back in the shadows!" The gnarled voice sounded terrified, and indeed, panic was in Mariku's warped features, he gripped at the mirror tightly, beseechingly, and Malik felt the pain in his own fingers. He wondered in an instant of alarm if Mariku might break the mirror with the force of his grip--it looked like it was Isis' not his. The face twisted, and the features smoothed suddenly, the hair growing limp, and Malik looked back.

"That wasn't what I _meant_." Malik retorted finally, irritated, glowering at the mirror. He looked at Rishid suddenly. The man's face was perfectly smooth, betraying nothing, but there was still a strange look in his eyes. He met Malik's instantly as though feeling the violet gaze on him. He shook his head ever so faintly. making his disapproval known. Malik's eyes narrowed, and he focused back on the mirror. "I've arranged for you to have a body. A body that will be all yours, and will look like _you_." His hair rose again, and he felt the prickled deep in his very blood and skin, his face gave a semblance of stretching as soul seeped and rearranged in agitation beneath the surface. "I don't _want_ a body. I want to...stay here." Mariku insisted, agitation working into his voice, laced with an odd kind of strain. He'd turned his eyes away, so Malik couldn't see his expression, but he could assume it wasn't a happy one.

"You _can't_ stay here." Malik muttered annoyedly. "You're giving me a headache." Mariku's voice was almost absurdly hurt when he surfaced again. "I've lain as dormant as possible. There should be no effect of me unless you call me." Malik made a disgusted noise. "Well apparently, there _is_. You assume I can simply walk back and tell Ryou that there's no need for a body for you? That isn't going to happen." Mariku twisted, his teeth bared in distress. "I don't _want_ to leave." He said quietly, stubbornly. Malik snorted. "Too damn bad. Look here, Mariku, it's nothing personal. It's an opportunity. You'll probably _like_ having a body of your own. It's what you wanted after all, right?" Mariku didn't answer. Malik could see several more aural seeps, and knew the other had to be twisting about agitatedly. He was far more upset than he had right or reason to be.

The voice was very quiet in response. His hair didn't even do more than prickle a little. The eye on his orehead was a weak glimmer. "This is...my home." Malik bit his lip and didn't answer, finally lowering the mirror. "It's for your own good, Mariku." He muttered. He couldn't tell whether Mariku heard him or not. He could feel him now like a little unhappy lump tickling at the back of his thoughts. He looked to Rishid, and silently handed the thing back, and sighed to himself. "I don't get it..." He grumbled, half to himself, half to Rishid. "This _is_ what he wanted. It's _all_ he wanted before." Rishid was quiet, except to nod and murmur. "I agree." Malik glared at the wall, frustrated, and confused as to why.

..._I never really had a material home...did I?_ He thought finally, and shut his eyes.

_I never wanted the thing. Freedom was better. He's me, anyway. He'll think the same in the end._

-o-O-o-O-o-

Notes:

_"Crescere"-- _

_latin for "to grow", possible root of the verb "create", and root of the english word "creature" (Note all possible ways in which that could be taken, and know, yes, my brain DID make about three semi-ironic references at once. I can't beleive it either.)_

_Quote from "Heaven and Hell"--_

_A bit of shamelesly appropriate Malik-foreshadowing, perhaps? How can one map something that keeps expanding on you and creating seperate entities, after all? One could see it as he's trying to "map" Mariku throughout this, and preserve him as something unchanging, or at least, less complicated and less troublesome...but who can say how well Malik does as a cartographer, hmm? And he certainly doesn't feel much differently for him than "ah, a specimin to collect and preserve" so to speak. (Of course the RP eventually became bronzeshipping, so more or less, Mariku quite effectively manages to get his attention, and Malik is all like "You stupid dork. Fine! I'll jump your stupid ass already, now shut up." It was weird. But it was fun. snicker I think Mariku grew on him, and Mariku was counting on that. Mariku was rather Malik-obsessed from the beginning after all--I'd know since I was playing him, and still am. Nyami-chan of course, did an excellent job of jumping in as Malik, and still does...Occasionally, I miss semi-playing Malik as well every once in a while, but it passes quickly.)_

_Vegetarian Malik--_

_Ask Nyami-chan. I'm not sure what way he swings NOW, but at the time this was occuring, I'm about 95 sure she had him as a vegetarian, which...makes sense to me in a sort of trippy penance kind of way. I expanded on the WHY he's a vegetarian a bit more, of course, but the idea really comes from her, and it was fun to run with. (Until I, as Malik-obsessed Marik, found the opening for all sorts of innuendoes with Malik's beloved vegetarian diet and consequently Marik seduced his Hikari by driving Malik crazy until he jumped him...but that's another story.snicker)_

_The three wives of Adam--_

_If you've never heard the story, and don't want to read the Midrash, pick up Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" graphic novel series, and look through the sixth volume "Fables and Reflections" while you're at Borders, and look for a story entitled "a Parliment of Rooks" and that should tell you enough through the Dreaming's character "Eve" as she recounts the tale from a slightly feministic perspective uniting the three wives as early icarnations of the feminine triad: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. (Blech. Feminism.) Note: not biblical, and not supported in any way shape or form by christians, or even most jews. It's a legend of Jewish mythology, and therefore something I have spent an inordinate amount of my lifetime researching for no apparent reason but pure whack-job-ness. _

_(Why does Ryou know it? Jewish mythology is heavily tied in with Jewish mysticism, and therefore with spirits... though I should warn some parts of Jewish mysticism lead to some pretty weird theories like--I kid you not--the soul catapult, apparently run by two angels with nothing better to do. Apparently, you catapult the soul from one to the other to shake out all sin and all bad thoughts from the soul in question, then lightened of said catapulted burdens, and with his brains turned to scrambled eggs, he is able to rise to the third heaven, etc. Weird stuff like that. Ah well. Still makes more sense than most of gnosticism, though that doesn't say much...most FANFICTION works written by ELEVEN-YEAR-OLDS who are in love with the PROTAGNIST make more sense than GNOSTICISM...)_

_The Necromancer and the Bodysnatcher--_

_Ryou is technically raising dead organs to life. Ergo, necromacy, of a sort. He's still terribly sweet, and doing it for a friend, so go easy on him._

_Bakura's "bodysnatcher" reference is actually more complicated. In a far early entry of mine as Bakura, Baku actually has quotes from Robert Louis Stevenson's short story "the Bodysnatcher" (And I think I gave him a chance to read off a bit of the story anew in this) but aside from references to my own literary prowess, the bodysnatcher, or "resurrection man" is a reference to a historical time when the glorious age of reason was running amuck, and men were so eager for corpses to dissect, that a pretty penny could be made by casual murder in the alleys with consequent selling to the high-wigged men of science. People who were poor in pocket and gray in morals often dug bodies up from the graves to make their cash by selling them for the onrush of science and reason. Bakura, being played by me, doubtless knows of this and probably is furious he wasn't around back then to display his natural gifts as a bodysnatcher in more ways than one. Where he's getting his organs from, dead or alive is up to the morbidity of the reader, as far as I'm concerned. snicker I deliberately leave it up to your own interpretations of Bakura's possible wickedness, as he leaves it to the other characters._

_Female Mariku--_

_Long forgotten joke with Nyami-chan if I remember correctly. It still gives me nightmares. snicker (I beleive the conversation actually started after Amelda and Seto got married, and Nyami-chan's all "You know...I can't see Mariku and Malik getting married" and I was disturbing myself by agreeing but dimly wondering who would be in the wedding dress, and OH but how disturbing it would be if it were Mariku. Yes...my recollection for obscure things is scary at times. It'll get you to Quiz Bowl State Finals, and that's about it.) Bakura made it a bit scarier yet, it seems, but as ever, only the joke lingers, and Mariku remains decidedly male. (We wouldn't _really_ have a female Mariku... though this _does_ give a rather more humorous take on how Marik got to be so well endowed--also Nyami-chan's fault origin-wise, for making Malik whine about exactly why he was sore in the ass once. Ph34r my memory.)_

_the Mirror--_

_My resident favorite plot device for letting people communicate with one another while still in the same body, and still try to read one another's expressions. It has a rather Snow White hint to it though... Snow White fans? Be freaked out, but know your favorite fairy tale is actually a lot gorier than you might think, and you should really read either Kaori Yuki's snow white interpretation in the first two chapters of "Ludwig Kakumei" (Yay! Necropheliac prince and Manipulative Snow White plus dark humor, told mostly from the perspective of the Prince!) or read Neil Gaiman's short story "Snow, Glass, Apples" from his short story collection "Smoke and Mirrors" (Vampire!SnowWhite story told from the perspective of the "Evil Queen." Also excellent...) _

_(On the thought of rewriting Snow White to fit someone's idea of OTP "Evil Yami" shipping with some corruptible hikari...My...that would make an interesting fanfic... But ah, I'm loathe to do rewrites and reinterpretations of other stories that already exist. A pity really. I imagine it's been done before in this fandom, too. Ah well...a pity...)_


End file.
